I'm Sorry, I Didn't Mean What I Said Earlier
by ijustlovemesomefriedchicken
Summary: Okay okay, it isn't a one shot any more, I've changed my mind. Nasty arguments don't always end in hugs and makeups, as Dan and Phil are about to realise. Rated T for the swearing.
1. Chapter 1

"So, moving on, I have a little story to share with you guys," I grin, trying not to laugh in front of the camera and Phil, who is sitting on the other couch, trying to look anywhere else. I pause; I can edit in the 'reasons why Dan's a fail (yay) ' screen later on.

Then Phil, staring at his knees, catches my eye; his hair falls over one of his electric blue eyes, which were probably welling up with tears; Phil was never very good with emotions, especially controlling them. That and I can just read him like a book wether he tries or not.

We agreed he would appear on my new video before the arguement, and we promised the Phans another joint video weeks ago now, so we have no choice but to put our stupid quarrels aside. Y'know I can't even remember what started it anymore; it's been dragging on for days now.

I lose track of time, simply staring across at the boy I love- the boy I made cry; my stomach chruns. It's a curious feeling, knowing how he feels about me, even when we're both screaming at each other, Phil crying, me screaming some more despite his tears...sometimes we even throw stuff at each other: once resulting in a collapsed bookshelf and a broken webcam. Especially when I see that venom and anger and what sometimes looks a lot like hatred well up in his eyes, I know he still loves me. But the thing is I can't imagine him thinking all the things I think about him; it just doesn't make sense. How can he? He's perfect, gorgeous, hilarious...amazing...and I'm just the epic fail in the llama hat who's not on fire and not interesting. Again, it makes no sense.

Finally I shake my head and look back at the camera, slapping on my fake smile.

"So I was just waiting in the queue in Tesco and the woman in front of me had her skirt stuck in the bottom of her knickers- like a sixty year old woman- and I'm standing like 'tell her, don't tell her, tell her, don't tell her?' so clever Dan here decides he wants to try and fix it himself...I think you can see where this is going..." I facepalm. "So that's how I faled this week- well the biggest of like thirty, Phil was keeping score."

Phil's look clearly says calm down, message fucking recieved, except the fact he never swears.

"Indeed I was," he says, squashing beside me on the couch with that adroable 'epic win/yay' face he has. His fake cheerfullness is almost too good; it's like I imagined the dark look he just flashed.

I mentally shake myself, trying to get into the same state of goofy mind as Phil. "Yeah, maybe I'll accidently blow up the whole place when I pick up the kiwi with the smuggled hand grenade in it. 'Cause I'll always get that one..." I shake my head slightly. "Shopping trip, Phil?"

"Yeah, we can go to the creche and blow up some two year olds!" he grins.

I blankly blink at him for a few seconds before cracking a sheepish smile. "Yeah, you go do that and I'll make sure the FBI are in the area..."

Phil laughs at my joke, as smooth as silk; as I said, how could a tears have fallen from those glistening eyes only last night, how could that laughing mouth have screamed at me? It's all I can do to force myself to laugh along: it's agonny. I'd rather sit here and watch him laugh, he sounds and looks so beautiful...why do I always scare that laugh away? Why do I always have to lock this cheerful happy side of Phil in and make his anger, frustration and tears come out to play instead? I'm a monster, I know I am; Phil said so last night, and I believe him 100%. No, 1000%.

I drink in his messy black hair, his soft lips, his chest, his thin legs...his eyes continue to glitter as he continues to laugh, but I can see past it. When the phans see this, they won't spot it, but I know different; I've caused the pain I see.

I see his lips move, but not a sound reaches me. I'm in a bubble, an oasis...leave me alone...

"Earth to Dan, come in, Dan?" and there's the pin. Hello there pin. You are a fucking bitch.

I look at him. He either barely notices my expression or ignores it completely. "What're we doing today?" he grins.

I quickly pull myself together as best I can, but I think I've put some of the pieces in the wrong place. "I'm just remembering that I went out to Asda for promotional Malteasers the other day and I just saw the empty shelf and..." I pretend to cover my teart eyes dramatically, but they actually blur with water and I need to blink loads to clear them as I can sense Phil rolling his eyes at the camera; more tears. I'm just typical Dan, aren't I? Wind me up and watch me go. Malteasers, llamas, tumblr, YouTube, more Malteasers..."

No, I can't cry. I never cry.

Phil wraps an arm around me, patting my back mumbling "there there, Dan, it'll all get better.." and other soothing words. I don't know wether he's doing this as part of the video or if he can somehow see the tear rolling down my cheek, but he doesn't let go. "Don't cry, Dan...c'mon now, we've got a video to finnish."

I jolt up, almost making Phil fly off the couch with the force in which I knock him off. "I'm not fucking crying, idiot!" I scream and storm out, knocking over a bar stool, hearing it clatter behind me onto the floor and slamming the door shut behind me. I half run to our room and prop a chair against the door once it's closed behind me.

I expect rattling at the door the second I lay down on the double bed, but nothing. I can't hear anything from the living room either.

I don't know how long I slept for, but I came round in that drousy sort of way, like when you've slept too long. I'm ready to apologise; I'm ready to end all of this and all future arguements, now I think about it. There's a fire burning in my chest and nothing could put it out. I'm ready, let's do this. I throw open the door and walk calmly back to the living room where I suspect Phil still is; I'm right. He's lying on the couch with one leg bent- his laptop propped against it- on what looks like twitter. I'm sure he heard me come in, but he doesn't react at all.

"Phil?"

He ignores me further, but hey, what did I expect? Anger begins to build up in me, but I swallow it; I'm not about to have another screaming match. "Phillie?"

He can't help but look round at the sound of his cute nickname, but instead of glowing, his eyes are almost shaking with rage. His voice is venom, biting at me like a knife. "Don't fucking call me that."

I felt my eyes widen before I could stop them. Phil never swore, ever. He must be pretty pissed off to even think about-

"What? Oh, little innocent Phillie swore! Call the fucking media! You think you can just walk in here after your little cat nap and expect me to swallow every apology you throw up like a bloody bird? I don't fucking think so! I was only trying to fucking help earlier, and you take a flaming hissy fit at me!"

"I didn't mean- y'know what I said- earlier...it just sort of came out...please, Phil," I sigh impatiently.

"It always seems to just slip out, doesn't it? And you never seem to mean it untill the next arguement, where you just say the same shit again, I'm fucking sick of it! When you're angry, I think I get to see the real Dan, don't I? All the time when we're making videos or having a laugh playing Skyrim, all you're thinking about is the next time you get to yell at me, isn't it? ISN'T IT?"

I remain silent for everal seconds, not even knowing what my facial expression must look like, then a slap echos throughout the room as my hand strikes his face. I know my expression must be absolute shock horror, mirroring Phil's. He raises a hand to touch his rapidly redenning cheek, as if making sure that actualy happened.

He doesn't even cry, he just walks around me and storms to the door. He wrenches on the door handle and it flys open in his rage. I follow him through to the hall, trying to make a grab for him before he reaches the front door.

"Phil-!"

"I hate you."

And before I can say anything else, the door has slammed behind him and I'm on my knees in the hall, the tears falling freely to the floor around me. I think you can guess what three words I can't get out my head.


	2. Chapter 2

What have I done? Words can be taken back, I suppose, untill they come back like Phil said, but that..no, there's a line and Dan Howell has just crossed it. Great going. Really.

For how long I sit here I don't know. All I can do was cry untill my throat was raw, scream untill all the air leaves my lungs and punch the stair bannisters untill my knuckles bleed. It's all a blur. A huge, fucked up blur. I've completely ruined things with Phil and I'll never be able to move out because my own mother kicked me out last year; that's the main reason we moved to London together, all be it we pretended it wasn't. He can skip merrily back to his mum and dad and big brother and play happy families and live without this moster who's forever picking arguements and yelling. I'm a monster. I know I am, I can feel it all over, like it's going to consume me. Or maybe it already has. No, this is it.

I climb the stairs up to the bathroom, my head a lot clearer even though I can't breathe from crying. I lock the door behind me, even though I'm home alone for the first time in months. I Splash cold water on my face- even spray cold water all over my head with the shower head- before I look in the mirror; I expect to see a monster, someone who looks exactly how I feel, someone who looks like they'd just lost everything, not even a someone...a something. A nothing.

But when I look in the glass, all I can see is the reasonably good looking guy called Dan in his wildcats t-shirt and skinny jeans. I grin broadly, and I swear I look just like in my videos; the happy Dan, the laughing Dan, the Dan that Phil prefers to this thing.

Smash. I leave the bathroom. Who cares about the seven years bad luck? Without Phil I'm just a fail with no common sense whatsoever, so who cares about a little bit of bad luck untill I'm 29?

I go into Phil's room. I want to lie in his bed like old times, but I can't bring myself to do it. I want to sit where he sits to film his videos, just to see how it would feel, but I can't bring myself to do that either. What gives me the right? All his lions are all around the room, looking at me, hating me just like their tamer does. I get his suitcase down from on top of his wardrobe and start throwing in all of his favourite clothes, some of his favourite video games and loads and loads of his lions, including the internet-famous Lion and his Lioness wife. I smile at them as I hold them in my hand, looking so much bigger in real life, as they growl back at me. I throw them in, feeling sick all of a sudden. Next his Macbook goes in, his Macbook charger, his camera, I round up his family pictures dotted around the room, his Muse ticket that he treasures much like I treasure mine, his phone charger and his shoebox full to the brim of trinkets and letters from his Phillions. I also come across a folder full of all the drawings he'd kept and, not being able to bear looking at his face printed in loads of different fan art situations, I tuck it into the front pocket. I start to remember more of the stupid things like his pair of 3D glasses with the lenses knocked out, loads of CDs that I'd forgotten on my first sweep of the room, the- still- terrifying masks of Justin Bieber and the Queen, the Bella wig and his giraffe antlers.

I'm about to leave, suitcase in tow, when I find the picture of me, Phil, Chris and Peej playing twister with the Christmas theme edited into it by the door; he'd printed it out and kept it as a keepsake, being the emotional sweet person he is. After kneeling down beside it and crying my eyes out for several minutes, I spot a lump at the back. Half curious, half really not wanting to know what sweet thing he'd written, I take the back panel and spill out the contents. If my heart wasn't broken, it sure as hell is now. Cleanly in two.

I howl as I look through the old photos of us together, some of the bracelets I'd given him like the ones on my own arms now, edits of 'Phan' that viewers had sent in he'd been too embarrased to show on camera...someone had even photoshopped a llama with a lion's face on it. That's all gone now. And I took it all for granted. I sigh.

It hits me just how much of an impact Phil has made on my life; he'd helped get my YouTube channel of the ground, and I'd be nowhere near one million subscribers without his initial push, he'd been such a laugh in joint videos, he was an amazing- no pun intended- co-presenter on The Super Amazing Project and on Radio 1; I'd have to quit both of them now. I remember all the holidays we went on together, all the fun times we had on YouNow...all that's gone too. He's gone. I'm not Dan and Phil anymore, or Phan, I'm just Dan. From this moment on Cat can never get my name mixed up with Phil's, our fans would be split into my fans and his fans; they'd never get pictures of us together anymore...No more secret romantic trips to the Starbucks down the road, no more shopping and being awkward, no more stupid truth or dares, no more cuddles...everything's gone, disappeared out that door with the boy with the beautifully black shiney hair and the beautiful blue eyes. He'd left my life before he'd even left it; in fact, I'm sure he had emotionally left before he had physically walked out the door half an hour ago.

I get breatheless from tears again and my face and shirt are soaked. I put everything back in the picture frame as much the way I found it as possible, but he'd be able to tell I'd been in anyway, like he'd always been able to do. I hiccup. Then I get the idea; sliding my bracelet off of my arm and slipping it in the frame too. It has 'PHAN' on it, with a silver enraved bead for each letter and I treasure it. I hope it will remind Phil of how much I care about him, even when I was yelling my head off or throwing that webcam, but I suspect he would want to burn it, which makes me almost want to take it back. Selfish Dan, as always.

I bump his suitcase down the stairs and leave it near the door just as I hear the lift opening outside and that stupid voice we used to laugh at echo off the stairwell walls. I think I'm imagining the chuckle I hear as I dive into my room, closing the door firmly behind me just as the front one opens. I bury myself under my blankets, preparing to lay low and not say anything untill he leaves; it's better that way. I somehow manage to fall asleep yet again.

"DAN!"

I moan and roll over as Phil's voice yells at me from far away. "DAN!" I shift again. Then the warmth is gone, I have nothing to cuddle; I whine for my duvet back but it doesn't come. Bleeeeuuugggghhh.

"DAN! Get the hell up!"

I open my eyes slowly, everything a blur, including Phil who is at the end of my bed, grey and black duvet in his arms. I groan. "I thought you'd have left by now. How long was I asleep for?" My voice is hoarse.

"I got home, ready to apologise for my behaviour and I find a suitcase at the door. I went upstairs, put everything back where it belongs and came back down to scream at you because you are a selfish little shit, Dan. That answer your question?"

Everything starts coming into focus and I see he'd been crying, probably over the same stuff I had, if not more. He throws something on the bed beside me and I scoop it up to see the familiar glint of silver. "Lost something, I think."

"I gave it to you, it's yours now." I sit up so I can see him better and be in a less vunerable position. Yeah yeah, that paranoid, whatever. "And I want you to take what's yours- including your stuff and I'll send the rest back to Manchester- and get the hell out of here, Phil. Bloody hell, I packed for you. Didn't you get the message?"

His eyes well up. "B-but Dan, I don't want to go. I love you."

Rage boils within me, and I'm on my feet yelling before I can stop myself. "YOU DO NOT LOVE ME! DON'T LIE TO ME! I'M A MONSTER, I'M A LIAR, I'M A CHEAT AS WELL APARENTLY. YOU HATE ME! AND DON'T SAY 'oh Dan I didn't mean all those things I said, I promise, I love you' BECAUSE IT IS BULL. SHIT. PHIL. YOU'RE THE LIAR, YOU LIE TO ME ALL THE TIME! EVERYTHING, YOU'VE ALWAYS HATED ME, ALL THE TIME! I'M A MONSTER, WHY WOULD YOU TELL ME ALL THESE THINGS IF I'M NOT! WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO STAY WITH THE ONE YOU HATE THE MOST AND WHO HIT YOU! YELLING IS ONE THING PHIL, BUT I-" my voice suddenly breaks and my legs won't hold, making me crash onto my bed and bury my head. I didn't know if Phil was still there or not considering I wasn't taking note wether I was yelling at him or the wall behind him, but I sob and sob and sob, the tears somehow replacing the rage. Usually it's the other way around and this has never happened before; usually I'd have simply run out of tears after the first few and started yelling again, but I just can't. They keep coming and coming and I can't turn the tap off.

Phil crawls up behind me on the bed, locks his legs behind mine, snakes his arms around my waist and buries a cheek into my neck, holding me. He's warm and kind, and as I take his hand, they're soft and familiar, like he'd never left.

_No Dan, shake him off! Tell him to get the fuck out! He doesn't love you, you idiot! Tell him to get to fuck! DAN!_

"I'm sorry," it doesn't register who it came from, but I'm guessing it's me, since Phil just squeezes me tighter.

_NO DAN! DON'T APOLOGISE! HIT HIM! HIT HIM! THAT SON OF A BITCH DOESN'T LOVE YOU! HIT HIM! SLAP HIM! HE HATES YOU! OH MY GOD, DAN, YOU IDIOT!_

Instead, I turn round and kiss him gently. My brain goes bonkers, yet is calm as the familiar feeling of kissing him registers with it. I love him. I don't care. He loves me, kissing me back just as softly. I could feel it radiating all around the room, warming us both. He doesn't hate me, he just got mad like I did, I realise. He breaks away to look into my eyes. I smile, like I mostly do in Phil's company.

"Aren't you going to ask where I've been?"

"Should I?" I respond, lacing my fingers in with his.

He nods, and so I do. "I went down to the pyscology centre, I took the bus," he starts. Oh crap, oh crap. No. No no no no no. There's no way in hell I'm going back there. "Don't panic, Dan, it's nothing bad. It's not where all the loonies go. They can help."

Not wanting to get into my family history, I nod.

"So, as I was saying, I spoke to someone who deals with relationship problems and he- being gay himself and having been through all this- said he'd be glad to give us couple counsiling. Isn't that-?"

He sees the look on my face and swallows. "Dan? Isn't that-?" He fails to think of a word, whereas I can think of plenty. Stupid, a waste of time, bad, not good, terrible, horrible, no...

"I'm not going back there, Phil. You know why."

"But Dan, all of that's behind you now. Isn't it?"

"Once you've been depressed it follows you around and it does that badly enough without me being reffered back to that ASY- I mean, that place- and I just- NO. I'M NOT GOING!"

I run back up to the bathroom. Phil has the common sense not to follow me.

**This got put into some community thing for best phanfictions, and I was like *shocked face*. I'm not really sure how the whole communities thing works- despite being on fanfiction for close to two years now..- but if someone had to do something for that to happen, thanks! I won't be putting ANs in this from now on- I'm revamping it- but I just want to say two things. **  
**a) I make videos on YouTube and if you want to go see- vlog kinda videos, y'know the type- then it's starsintheskyss. Very much appreciate it. **  
**b) if anyone is a vlog kinda person, please leave your channel name in a review because I'd love to see your videos. Thanks, that's all! Enjoy the rest of the story! c:**


	3. Chapter 3

He knocks softly on the door. "Daaaan? You ready to come out yet?"

I'm still sitting in the bath, y'know, contemplating on the meaning of life and all that jazz.

"I've made up my mind, okay? Mind? Made up. Yup."

"Danny, c'mon. Please? I thought you'd take it really well and you just-"

I leap out and scurry to the door, unlocking it and yanking it open. "Shut up! Just shut up! Okay? I'm not going, the end. YOU JUST DON'T GET IT, DO YOU?" I yell in his face.

On second thoughts, he doesn't understand anything! I'm so done here. I'm not going to even try. Why should I? I try to dodge around him, but he simply blocks my way by sidestepping in front of me, grabbing my wrist. "Dan, for Christ's sake, you're acting like a stroppy teenager!" he snaps.

"I-I-I...you- you don't get it, okay? Just leave me the fuck alone!"

I try again and for the second time I am blocked. Persistant bugger. "If you were a man, you'd talk this out like one and not storm away like a coward."

He's keeping so calm, but I can see impatience in his eyes; he's just in a no-nonsense kind of mood. And I'm gonna completely ignore that fact and play the calm card myself. Why the fuck not? "Y'know what? Your little councilor guy or whatever the hell he is. You know what he can do? He can shove his couples whatever up. his. Okay?" I smile.

I try to go around him again, and this time he lets me, suprisingly, but before I can get any further than about three or four steps before I hear him mutter something. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, nothing," he says, cool as ice as he runs back downstairs. "Except you're a total coward. Or, as you'd rightly put it, a pussy. Right?"

I roll my eyes. Phil was supposed to be the mature one, trying to solve the arguements and accepting my apologies the second I'd give them out- overlooking today- but now the roles have almost reversed. "What the hell's happening to us, Phil?" I can't help saying.

"I don't know...I'm sorry, I didn't mean to call you a pussy.."

"It's okay, y'know what? I deserved it."

"So are we gonna go talk this out like adults then, Danny?"

"It's Dan, Phillie. Starbucks?"

He nods and goes to get shoes, as do I. I'm slightly regretting opening my big mouth but slightly relived. I love him, so why do I keep hurting him like this?


	4. Chapter 4

**(ATTEMPT TWO: First try I accidently wrote it in past tense because I'm an idiot so yeah sorry bout that..)**

**Chapter four AT LONG LAST. This story kinda got forgotten about, because I didn't really know what to do with it but now I do and that's bloody fantastic so let's go!**

**And don't you dare call me Brittish for saying bloody, I'm friggin Scottish, awright, m8? **

**Jolly good show :D**

And then he just leaves. We've been having counciling with some a gay guy called Arthur Phillips, who had been in an abusive relationship and has been helping us to sort out our problems through different excercises before it gets to that stage. There's still the odd argument, but they don't last as long and the majority of nights we'd have been screaming at each other we're gently kissing, whispering 'I love you' into the darkness over and over, or watching a film, ordering a chinese, filming more videos together.

And then nothing. I get up one morning to no sound in my ears. Usually there's the crackle of sausages in a frying pan or the gentle background noise the morning news provided. There's only silence and the empty side of the bed. I know.

No note. No explaination. No text. No phone call. No e-mail. His number had been deleted from my phone but I still call it- I know it by heart.

But it's no use.

He's gone.

And somehow I know he's not coming back.

What have I done?

***shrugs* **


End file.
